TOM RIDDLE HOUSEFIRE GAME

The forest had gone quiet. Not the normal kind of quiet, where leaves rustled and birds called from branch to branch—but a careful silence, as if the trees themselves were listening. At opposite edges of the forest, far enough apart that they couldn’t see each other at all, the two teams stood ready. The Blue Team waited beneath tall oaks, their trunks thick and dark, roots twisting out of the ground like knuckles. Shafts of pale morning light slipped through the leaves above, barely touching the blue glow of the flag hovering close to Sirius. It flickered softly, hidden by shadow, as though trying not to be noticed. No one spoke. Even Bellatrix kept her mouth shut, her wand held low, eyes sharp as she watched the spaces between the trees. Across the forest, the Red Team stood near a narrow path where the ground dipped, and stones poked through the soil. The red flag pulsed faintly beside Lucius, its light dulled by the mist curling around his boots. Tom stood slightly apart, eyes moving constantly—branches, roots, patches of fog. Every hiding place stood out to him now. Lily shifted her weight, careful not to rustle the leaves. James lifted his wand, then lowered it again, breathing slowly. Sameyr leaned closer to Tom, barely more than a shadow beside him. “We move when you do.” Tom nodded once. Between the teams stretched the forest—thick, winding, and full of blind spots. You couldn’t see more than a few steps ahead before trees and fog swallowed everything. There was no whistle. No signal. The game didn’t announce itself. It simply began. Tom stepped forward, light on his feet, and Lily and Sameyr followed, careful and silent, disappearing into the trees. Behind them, the red flag glowed once… then dimmed. The Housefire Games were underway. Sirius raised his hand. They waited a second. Then he lowered it. That was enough. No one said anything. There were three ways forward. One path bent left through low trees and fallen branches. Another went straight ahead, narrow and quiet—the third curved right, where the ground sloped gently upward. Remus moved first. Owen, Mira, and Bellatrix followed him to the left, stepping carefully so the leaves wouldn’t crunch too loudly. Draden and Annabel went straight ahead. They didn’t hurry, but they didn’t stop either. Sirius turned right with the others. The blue flag stayed close to him, its light dim under his cloak. Within moments, the forest pulled them apart. Branches closed in. Fog slipped between the trees. From where they started, it already looked like no one had been there at all. The forest closed in again. Where the Blue Team had slipped away between the trees, the paths quickly faded, leaves settling back into place as if no one had passed through at all. On the other side of the forest, the Red Team remained where they were. Lucius stood near the center, the red flag hovering close, its glow faint in the mist. Around him, the others waited, listening to the quiet stretch longer than it should have. James was the first to speak. “How long has it been?” he asked, glancing toward the trees. “Shouldn’t they have done something by now?” Lucius didn’t answer. James ran a hand through his hair. “We really just let them go alone? Three people? That was the plan?” Samera stepped closer. “They know what they’re doing,” she said gently. “We agreed to this.” James frowned. “Still feels wrong. We should’ve split up as we planned.” “And drawn attention to ourselves?” Helena said quietly. James sighed, clearly restless. “I just don’t like standing still.” Samera nodded. “Neither do I. But rushing won’t help.” They fell silent again, eyes on the trees, waiting for the first sign that the scouts would return—or that the enemy would find them first. The path Tom, Lily, and Sameyr took was quiet, too quiet. Every step crunched softly on fallen leaves, and the faint rustle of branches made them all jump a little. Tom led the way, eyes scanning the shadows, wand loosely in his hand. Lily and Sameyr followed closely, moving carefully over roots and rocks. “This way’s clear,” Tom whispered, pausing to crouch behind a thick trunk. “For now.” Sameyr tilted her head. “For how long?” “Long enough,” Tom said. His eyes flicked to a fork in the path up ahead. “Listen. I think it’s better if you two go ahead. I’ll take the other route.” Lily blinked at him. “Wait, what? Alone? Are you serious?” “Yes,” Tom said firmly. “You’re faster together. If anything happens, I can signal you.” He lifted his wand, curling his fingers over it like he wasn’t even trying. “Not Lumos. Too bright. Too obvious. I’ll use Sonorus. A little bubble of sound that will carry to you if I need help. You’ll hear it clearly, can come running, no one else will notice.” Sameyr frowned, crossing her arms. “That’s risky. What if you get caught?” “Exactly why you go first,” Tom said, shaking his head. “If they’re nearby, you two are already moving. I can hold them off—or distract them—if needed. Then the spell tells you to change course. It’s safe. Just… don’t panic if you hear it.” Lily looked at him sharply. “Safe? That’s not exactly what I’d call safe. You’re volunteering to—” “Alone?” Tom finished for her. His eyes were steady. “Yes. I can handle it.” Sameyr’s voice dropped. “We’re supposed to stick together. That’s the plan.” Tom shook his head slowly. “Plans don’t work when everyone’s moving at once, and there’s no way to see what’s ahead. You two are faster. You’ll get further, spot anything first. I’ll take the longer path, out of sight. If trouble comes, I’ll make a sound. You follow the sound. That’s it.” They both looked unconvinced. James might have yelled if he were here. Helena would have argued. But it was just the three of them, and the forest pressed in tight around them. “I don’t like it,” Lily said finally, gripping her wand tighter. “If something happens, we—” “You’ll be fine,” Tom interrupted gently. “Trust me. You always do when I’m not in the way.” Sameyr’s frown lingered, but after a long pause, she finally sighed. “Fine. But the first sign of trouble, we move. No second chances.” “Exactly,” Tom said, giving them a small nod. He pointed to the fork in the path. “You two go that way. I’ll take the other. And remember the spell—Sonorus. Listen for it. It’s just my voice if I need you. No one else will hear it.” Lily and Sameyr exchanged a glance, then moved forward slowly, stepping as softly as they could. Leaves brushed their legs, twigs snapped underfoot, and their hearts thumped quietly in the quiet forest. Tom stayed back for a moment, watching them disappear around a bend. Then he took a deep breath and slipped into the other path, wand ready, moving carefully but determined. A few steps later, he whispered the spell under his breath, just once: “Sonorus!” It was faint, almost like a bubble of sound curling in the mist, waiting to carry if he needed it. The forest closed around him, shadowed and strange, but he moved steadily. Ahead, Lily and Sameyr were already out of sight, and that was exactly how it was supposed to be. Even if they didn’t like it. Even if they didn’t approve. He would make it work. The path twisted deeper into the forest, narrowing between thick trunks and low-hanging branches. Tom moved slowly, careful not to snap twigs or disturb the leaves underfoot. The mist clung to his ankles, curling around roots like fingers, and shadows stretched long ahead, hiding what lay beyond. A few steps later, he reached a small rise where the trees thinned just enough to give him a clear view of part of the forest below. From here, he could watch the path Lily and Sameyr had taken without being seen. The ground was soft, leaves muffling each step, and a low boulder at the edge offered cover. Tom crouched behind it, scanning the shadows. He whispered the Sonorus spell again, just a faint hum this time, making sure it was ready if he needed to alert them. The sound curled through the mist, harmless to anyone else, but easy for Lily and Sameyr to hear. The forest held its quiet around him. Every branch, every rustle of leaves seemed louder in contrast. He had reached the spot he’d chosen—hidden, but with a clear line of sight. Now, all he could do was wait. Watch. And hope the plan worked exactly as he had intended. Tom’s eyes flicked to the movement ahead. Shadows shifted along the path Lily and Sameyr had taken. Figures, moving quickly and too purposefully to be animals, were heading straight toward them. He didn’t hesitate. Whispering under his breath, he sent the Sonorus spell soaring through the mist: “Sonorus!” A faint bubble of sound curled through the air, carrying his voice only to Lily and Sameyr. If they were listening carefully, they would hear it—one sharp note that meant danger. Tom held his breath, scanning the path. Tom crouched low behind the boulder, eyes fixed on the figures moving along the path ahead. His pulse quickened when one shadow broke from the trees and came toward him with purpose. Bellatrix. Her wand was raised, eyes sharp and calculating, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I knew you’d be out here alone,” she said. “Trying to play scout, are you?” Tom barely had time to draw his wand. “I’m not alone!” he shouted, but the forest swallowed the sound. Bellatrix moved first, her steps quick and sure, coming around the boulder before Tom could react fully. He swung his wand up, but she was already striking, sending a bright jet of red light toward him. Tom dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the spell, leaves and dirt flying around him. He rolled, trying to get some distance, but Bellatrix was faster than he expected. Every time he tried to rise, she was there, forcing him back, her spells sharp and quick, each one a warning he couldn’t ignore. “You’re fast,” she said, stepping closer, wand flicking, sending a spray of sparks his way. “But not fast enough.” Tom’s heart thumped. He needed a plan, and fast. The forest pressed in on him, the shadows shifting, and every tree seemed like it could be hiding another threat. Bellatrix’s eyes glittered with confidence, and for a moment, he realized just how much of a challenge she was. She had the upper hand, and he was on the defensive. He ducked behind a thick tree trunk, breath ragged, watching her circle him, wand ready. Every time he peered out, she was there, blocking his escape. Then—something caught his eye. A patch of blue in the distance, flickering softly through the trees. Sirius. And with him, the Blue Team, grouped around the flag, moving cautiously through the forest. Tom’s chest tightened. The flag! It was right there, almost glowing, easy to spot. Bellatrix had no idea. Her focus was on him, and she hadn’t noticed how obvious her own movements were against the forest floor. He realized in a heartbeat that he had a chance. Bellatrix lunged again, wand striking toward him, but Tom was ready this time. He raised his wand firmly and shouted: “Expelliarmus!” The spell hit her wand squarely. Bellatrix’s smirk vanished as her wand flew from her hand, clattering across the leaves. She stumbled back, shocked, her eyes wide. Tom didn’t waste a second. He sprinted forward, keeping low, dodging branches and roots, adrenaline pumping through him. The path to Sirius was clear now, the Blue Team and the flag visible just through the mist. Bellatrix recovered quickly, but Tom had gained too much distance. She let out a frustrated shout and started after him, but her steps were heavier now, her confidence shaken. Tom ducked under a low branch, hurdled over a fallen log, and kept his eyes on the blue glow ahead. The forest seemed to blur around him, every rustle of leaves sharpening his focus. Tom stayed low, crouched behind the boulder, keeping the Blue Team in sight. He wasn’t supposed to fight them—not alone. He was a scout. His job was to see, to track, to report. But just watching wasn’t enough. He needed attackers. Someone to strike if they got close, someone to help him create an opening. He scanned the trees around the clearing, thinking quickly. Lily or Sameyr, he thought. One of them has to be nearby. He could hear faint rustles from the forest behind him—branches brushing, leaves trembling. Could it be one of them? He couldn’t be sure, but he had to try. Careful not to move too much, Tom angled slightly along the edge of the clearing, keeping the Blue Team in view. Each step was measured, silent. He whispered under his breath, shaping the Sonorus spell just enough to send a tiny signal through the forest—something Lily or Sameyr might catch if they were close. His eyes never left Sirius and the others. The flag gleamed faintly in the mist. Their movements were slow, deliberate—but too many for him to handle alone. He counted heads, watched positions, and noted who was guarding the leader, who was scanning the trees. He crouched, thinking fast. If I can get one of them to notice me—one of my attackers—I can turn this. I just need the opening. Every step forward was careful, almost invisible. He used the trees for cover, the shadows for disguise, and the mist for concealment. His heart thumped quietly, but he stayed steady. Every second counted. Ahead, the Blue Team moved closer together, unaware that he was watching, analyzing, waiting. Tom’s mind raced—calculating, planning, trying to figure out the best way to reach an attacker, to create a chance to strike, without being caught or giving himself away. He didn’t rush. He observed. He waited. Because one mistake here could ruin everything. And he wouldn’t let it. Tom crouched low behind the boulder, his eyes fixed on the Blue Team as they moved cautiously through the clearing. Every detail mattered—the way they shifted, who stayed close to the flag, the patterns of their movement. He tried to anticipate what they might do next, calculating the safest way to signal his own attackers. But then—something passed behind him. At first, it was only a blur, a shadow streaking across the corner of his vision at a speed that didn’t seem possible. He blinked, certain he had imagined it. And then it happened again. Faster this time. A streak, silent and precise, moved just behind the boulder where he had been crouched. Tom’s heart skipped. He froze. His wand hand twitched, but he kept it low, careful not to draw attention from the Blue Team. “Who’s there?” he whispered, voice low, almost a breath, careful to carry nothing further than the air around him. There was no answer. Nothing but the soft rustle of leaves in the mist, and the faint echo of movement that seemed impossibly fast, as if it belonged to something not entirely human. Tom leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing, scanning the shadows around the boulder. His mind raced. What could move like that? How could it be so fast? The sudden bursts of motion drew him in. He found himself shifting instinctively, abandoning the careful observation he had been doing. The Blue Team’s positions, the layout of the clearing, all of it faded to the background as something about that streak demanded his attention. It passed again, faster than before, a flash of shadow that made him instinctively pivot, following its path with his eyes. He crouched lower, keeping himself hidden, yet leaning toward the direction it had gone, pulled by curiosity and a sense of urgency he couldn’t explain. Every instinct told him to stay focused, to continue watching the Blue Team—but the speed, the precision, the way it moved—something about it tugged at his thoughts, drawing him away, compelling him to find out what it was. He swallowed hard, gripping his wand a little tighter, and began to ease out from behind the boulder, letting himself be guided by the mysterious movement. The forest seemed to grow thicker, darker, the mist curling around him as he crept forward, senses straining, every step careful, yet driven by the impossible speed of whatever was out there. Tom stopped. At some point—Tom wasn’t sure when—he had gone too far. The forest felt wrong. Not louder. Not sudden. Just… different. Thicker somehow. Like the trees were closer than they had been before. The mist stayed low, sliding around roots and trunks, curling at his ankles as if it didn’t want him to leave. Everything was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that meant safety. The kind that made him notice every breath he took, every small shift of his boots against the ground. He stopped walking. He was alone. Then someone whispered. “Tom…” His body reacted before his mind did. He spun around, wand up, heart pounding hard enough to hurt. Nothing. Just trees. Just shadow. Then again—closer. “Tom… Tom…” He turned slowly, eyes scanning the mist. The voice didn’t come from one spot. It wasn’t behind him. It wasn’t ahead. It was everywhere. “Who’s there?” he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. No answer. Then— “We know what you are.” The words didn’t sound spoken. They slid straight into his head, cold and smooth, like fingers brushing across his thoughts. Tom sucked in a breath, his grip tightening on his wand. His eyes darted from tree to tree, searching for movement. “You aren’t one of them.” A branch shifted nearby. Tom snapped around— Nothing. “You belong to us.” The voices are layered together now. Some quiet. Some are almost kind. Others were sharp, like they were laughing at him. They said his name again and again, bending it until it barely sounded real. Tom stepped back slowly. Leaves crunched under his boots, too loud in the stillness. His pulse thudded in his ears. The trees seemed closer now, shadows stretching longer, leaning in. “No,” he muttered. “You’re not real.” The whisper laughed. Soft. Careful. Enough to make his stomach twist. “We see you,” the voices murmured. “We always have.” The mist crept higher, brushing his legs. For a moment, it felt like the forest was watching him. His thoughts started to blur, like someone was pressing on them, over and over. “You don’t belong with them.” “You never did.” “You’re like us.” Tom squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe. Slow. Steady. Holding onto the feel of the wand in his hand. Then— A sharp tap hit his shoulder. Tom jumped. “Tom!” Samera hissed, gripping his arm. The forest snapped back into place. The voices vanished as if they’d never been there. He blinked, breath uneven, trying to focus. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “We’re supposed to be moving.” “I thought I—” he started. “Later,” she cut in, firm. “Right now, follow me.” She crouched and looked ahead, eyes narrowed. After a second, she pointed toward a narrow path slipping between the trees. “I saw movement,” she said quietly. “That way.” Tom followed her gesture. The path disappeared into the mist, dark and tight. He nodded and started forward, keeping low, trusting her call. Behind him, Samera stayed where she was. She watched him take the first steps. Then her mouth curved into a small, sharp smirk. Not playful. Not proud. Satisfied. The mist shifted. The trees leaned closer. And as Tom moved deeper into the forest, unaware, Samera stepped after him—her smirk fading into the shadows. TO BE CONTINUED NESSGEEORIGINAL